At dawn, Juliet traveled to the Duke's residence in the capital.
However, she was unable to meet Lennox.
"…He returned to the North?"
Juliet blinked in confusion, momentarily taken aback.
The meaning of the steward's words didn't immediately register.
"Yes, Miss Montague."
Or, to be more precise, she was unable to meet him for the simple reason that the mansion stood almost entirely empty—save for a skeleton staff of servants left to maintain the property.
Noticing the effect this news had on Juliet, the steward added in an apologetic tone:
"He departed for his northern estate yesterday evening."
In the end, Juliet had no choice but to leave. She hastily penned a brief note and asked the steward to forward the soul stone to the Duke's estate immediately—there was no time to waste.
For such a large ducal retinue, it had been a remarkably swift and quiet departure.
Which meant only one thing: he had used the gate. His packing hadn't taken long, and his exodus had been accomplished without unnecessary fanfare.
Ordinarily, the Duke and his household would have returned to the North immediately following the New Year's ball. But due to various circumstances, he had remained in the capital until February.
So what did this sudden departure signify? It looked like…
*It looks like he fled when he was caught red-handed.*
Juliet still couldn't erase the expression on Lennox's face the moment she'd uncovered the secret he'd been hiding.
*[You should have just walked away and pretended you didn't notice when you had the chance.]*
This man's pride was so immense it probably scraped the heavens.
*He's never asked anyone for anything in his entire life. Never sought advice, because he believes himself superior to everyone else…*
This man had not learned to rule—he had been *born* to command.
It was glaringly obvious that someone like him would never willingly reveal weakness.
But the more Juliet dwelled on it, the angrier she became.
*How could he possibly leave for the North without telling me? Didn't he think it might upset me? Does he believe I'm completely insensitive?*
Juliet, who was seated in the greenhouse tending to her roses, muttered coldly:
"Heartless monster."
"*Kyun?*"
Onyx, who had been lounging nearby while carefully separating flower buds from their stems, raised his head at the sound of her voice.
The entire floor surrounding the young dragon was littered with beautiful rosebuds—looking rather like severed heads.
"Phew…"
Juliet sighed heavily and tossed Onyx a few more thornless roses before picking up her garden shears once more.
---
February was a relatively quiet season compared to others on the social calendar.
That said, high society wasn't entirely devoid of entertainment. A favored winter pastime among the nobility was fox hunting in designated grounds, and small gatherings were occasionally held in various salons.
However, Juliet had no interest in salon meetings or hunting expeditions, so she spent the majority of her time at the mansion.
She had no opportunity to grow bored, though. Countess Montague was busier this winter than in any previous year—because there seemed to be no end to the stream of guests.
"Juliet! Juliet!" cried a beauty clad in snow-white robes, clutching an armful of flowers as she threw open the greenhouse door. "Just look at this! I've already finished everything!"
Elsa deposited a bundle of neatly trimmed flowers before Juliet and nudged them toward her proudly.
"Well? I did well, didn't I?"
"Yes. You did excellently."
"Then can I have some pie now?" Elsa asked, her eyes shining with eager anticipation.
"Yes. Go ask Yvette for it."
"Hooray! Finally!"
Elsa dashed out of the greenhouse with jubilant cries—like an excited child.
Juliet, who had been watching her departure with a faint smile, shook her head fondly before glancing in another direction.
Seated across from the greenhouse exit was another forest dweller: Nathan, Roy's subordinate. The small garden shears in his massive hands looked surprisingly harmonious, despite his rather imposing physique.
Fully absorbed in his task, he carefully and skillfully trimmed withered leaves from rose stems and removed thorns with practiced efficiency. Observing from the side, one could see that his working speed was quite remarkable.
However, even though Nathan worked swiftly, a considerable pile of untouched flowers still remained before him—because Elsa, who had been desperately eager for pie, had dumped her share onto his workstation.
"Nathan, you can stop for the day and go have some pie with Elsa," Juliet suggested, watching his deft movements.
"I'm fine."
"Well then, let's continue."
"……"
Juliet didn't press the matter and refocused on her own roses.
---
Despite the fact that the Countess of Montague's mansion was overflowing with guests for the first time in many years, Juliet refused to let them remain idle.
Among the rare gifts Roy had brought her from the forest were unusual rose seedlings that bloomed a mere three days after planting.
When Juliet had caught a certain wizard performing experiments on them in the empty greenhouse one day, she'd decided it was high time to curtail their leisurely idleness. She assigned the forest guests—who had been intimately connected to nature since birth—to cultivate the flowers, and distributed the remaining labor force throughout the garden to tend them.
The only one she exempted was the little dragon, who now simply lounged beside her while she worked.
Many aristocrats remained ignorant of the fact that roses possessed thorns.
Which wasn't particularly surprising—the flowers they typically used for arrangements arrived thornless.
If they *knew* the truth, naturally the first question arising in their minds would be: *"So where do all these thorn-free roses come from?"*
The answer was simple: money and human labor.
Juliet had discovered this truth at an early age.
In reality, every winter, estate owners with greenhouses performed the routine work of cultivating and selling flowers. It was a relatively elegant hobby—and a profitable venture.
Juliet's hired workers frequently grumbled about the tedium of the labor, but thanks to generous compensation, they continued fulfilling her orders.
And Juliet herself now needed simple work to occupy her hands and distract her mind from melancholy thoughts.
*Knock-knock.*
"Juliet, are you here?"
Following these words, a strikingly handsome man appeared in the greenhouse doorway.
"Hello, Roy."
"Master Roy!"
Nathan seemed genuinely delighted to see him—he instantly leaped to his feet and greeted him enthusiastically.
From this, Juliet concluded that unlike the other two werewolves, Nathan had likely come here not of his own volition.
*He must have been desperately bored tending flowers for three hours straight.*
Roy smiled sheepishly at Juliet.
"Could you step outside with me for a moment?"
"Did something happen?"
"I found something… unusual out front."
Rising from her chair, Juliet wondered briefly if Roy had perhaps discovered a shivering squirrel.
"What's the matter? Oh…"
However, standing on the mansion's porch was a middle-aged man, trembling violently despite being wrapped in a thick blanket.
"M-M-Miss… J-just give me a m-moment…"
It was an unexpected guest who had arrived uninvited.
The pathway leading to the mansion had accumulated substantial snow, and the carriage had been unable to reach the house—forcing the man to trudge through snowdrifts on foot.
Since noble visitors had become exceedingly rare lately, Juliet had deliberately refrained from clearing the road, reasoning it was pointless when everything would melt come spring anyway.
"Please, come inside."
Juliet invited the middle-aged man into the house.
Only after considerable time—once he'd finally warmed himself by the fire—did he examine Juliet from head to toe and speak in a haughty voice:
"Are you Miss Juliet Montague?"
Juliet was genuinely surprised by his question. They were already acquainted—she couldn't fathom why he was pretending to see her for the first time.
"Yes, Sir Melvin."
The man's name was Viscount Melvin, and he held the position of chief steward of the imperial palace. He and Juliet had known each other since the Blue Bells Ball seven years prior.
Viscount Melvin coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem… Miss Montague…!"
"*Countess* Montague."
"Ah—yes, quite right. Countess Montague, I bear a message from His Majesty! He invites—"
"I've already declined all invitations," Juliet interrupted coldly, removing her gardening gloves.
"But this is not a *regular* invitation!"
Refusing to yield, Viscount Melvin swiftly withdrew a scroll and placed it before Juliet with a flourish.
Somewhat wary of their guest's unusual persistence, Juliet and Roy exchanged glances before both turning their attention to the table. Upon it lay an ornate scroll bearing a magnificent golden seal.
"This is His Majesty's ***command***—therefore, you must come to the palace immediately!"
---
This year's winter had proven particularly harsh and snowy in the northern territories—a fact not lost on the Duke's household or the man himself.
Snow blanketed the Duke's castle like a thick white shroud, glittering and sparkling in the pale sunlight like scattered diamonds. But despite its outward splendor, the fortress remained as silent as a tomb.
Moving as quietly as possible, the physician cracked open the door and peered fearfully into the Duke's darkened bedchamber.
"Is there anything else troubling you, Your Grace?"
"……"
The doctor remained frozen in apprehensive silence, not daring to repeat his question.
The Duke's prolonged silences were usually ominous portents.
While waiting for His Grace to speak, the physician recalled a conversation that had transpired between them several days earlier.
*"Are you certain there will be an effect if divine power is introduced directly into the body?"*
*"Yes—but only theoretically."* The doctor had answered casually, then suddenly grasped his intention and blanched. *"No, Your Grace—wait! What if there are side effects—!"*
*"I don't care."*
The solution proposed by the Duke of Carlisle had been straightforward—but far from simple.
A physician could not unconditionally agree to perform a treatment procedure on his patient when the outcome could not be guaranteed.
But ultimately, the method had *worked*—though there had been some unexpected consequences.
"Is it possible to experience dreams when one is blind?"
"I beg your pardon?"
The unexpected question caught the doctor off guard.
"Are you having difficulty sleeping? I can prescribe sleeping draughts if—"
"No. That won't be necessary."
As if irritated, the man closed his eyes quietly and dismissed the physician with a slight wave.
"Leave me."
"…As you wish, Your Grace."
The door opened and closed with a soft *click*.
---
After the doctor departed, Lennox—left alone in the shadowed chamber—slowly opened his eyes.
His crimson irises gleamed brilliantly in the dim light.
***He could see.***